


Amor Fati

by maskedhero



Category: Tales of Symphonia
Genre: Alternate Universe, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Religious Themes, eventual sexytimes, monstrous angels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-12 12:35:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11737155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maskedhero/pseuds/maskedhero
Summary: Lloyd has been raised in the Holy City of Welgaia for his entire life, devoutly praying for the slumbering Goddess Martel under the tutelage of the great Lord Mithos. He cares for the Daughter of Luna, Colette, a blossoming angel who is destined to save the souls of the beings that live on the earth below them; souls that are haunted by their own sins, as well as the monsters that crawl the land.When a terrifying new angel with golden wings arrives to the laboratory, tempting sin, Lloyd is forced to challenge his entire way of thinking and to face his deepest fears and desires.





	1. The Son and the Daughter

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I'm attempting a longfic! I'm really excited about this and I hope you'll all enjoy the ride with me.
> 
> Some warnings before we begin: this fic will delve into some dark places, including emotional and physical abuse, manipulation with themes of religion, body horror, and violence. I plan to preface each chapter with a general warning, and I'll put specific warnings in the End Notes if specific trigger warnings are desired.
> 
>  
> 
> I'd like to thank my wonderful girlfriend for helping me come up with the title, as well as supporting me through my utter self indulgent madness. Love you babe. You're the best. smooch
> 
> ok ok now that this long preamble is done, go forth! And thank you again for reading!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lloyd makes a prayer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are no warnings for this first chapter. Yay!
> 
> I'd like to thank vampirecaligula (@weirdcuneiform on twitter) for helping me beta this first chapter with really wonderful comments, she's a real pro at this and you oughta go read all her stuff and comment too! Along with @krystalning, who is really good at screaming and art.

Curls of smoky myrrh waft around Lloyd’s face as he blows out the flame on the stick of incense. It smells familiar and warm, a scent associated with wisdom and reverence. He breathes in deeply. He places it pointed up in a small decorated pot full of fine sand and adjusts its position on the altar, next to his modest offering of baked apples.

He takes a moment to look around the room he’s in, at the slate colored walls with their glowing teal embellishments. The ceilings are tall and slanted towards a center point, making the small room seem much bigger than it is, every sound carrying an echo. The floor is simple, dark gray linoleum, which can be a little rough on the knees. Lloyd lays down a rolled blanket before he kneels.

Ahead of him, past the altar, is the most impressive part of the room, and also specifically why he chooses this room to come and pray: a massive stained glass window that filters the sunlight from outside, depicting a beautiful Goddess of leafy green feathers and garb in fine curls of steel and vivid colors. To look upon Her makes Lloyd feel peaceful and safe, for some reason. Whenever Lloyd has doubts, he can always come here and visualize Her actually addressing him, humble him, reaching down to touch his shoulders and smiling.

He closes his eyes and smiles back, feeling silly. His faith doesn’t require the ability to see Her, of course. But it did help the visualization.

“Goddess,” Lloyd mutters from memory, bowing his head, “Great Mother of the world below, may your slumber end soon. May you return and find your children repentant, and may you restore the world to its former glory.”

He furrows his brow and chews his lip a little. No one else is around.

“And… if you could, um… help Colette feel better,” he adds, quieter, “if you could help her through her suffering-- not that I don’t think she can’t do it herself, she’s doing a great job, but things are so hard on her, a-and--”

Steady breath. 

“She could just use more help. I’m doing my best. I love her, Goddess, and I know You love everyone with the wholeness of your heart, so I think it would be okay to give her a little break sometimes. She can still be an angel without  _ constant _ suffering, right?”

He opens one eye to glance at the window ahead of him. It hasn’t changed. It never does.

Lloyd sighs, his head falling to a shoulder as he folds his arms. There were so many things he wanted answers to--  _ needed  _ the answers to-- and being patient only did so much in the interim.

“Please wake up, Martel.”

The hair on the back of Lloyd’s neck stands on end, and his ears twitch as he hears the slightest of sounds, the feeling of the air being displaced somewhere behind him. He tries not to react, despite his muscles jumping in place, because prayer is more important, and he hadn’t ended his yet.

But he knew who it was, and he was excited to see him. Lloyd bows his head and slams his eyes shut and lifts pressed hands to his lips.

“HolyisthynameandIamfullofyourgraceAmen,” he blurts, before standing and pivoting in one movement.

Lloyd meets his sharp, bright eyes first, feeling his soul whittled under his scrutiny. He’s as blonde as a snow-capped mountain, his hair flowing silk down his back. White and gold fabric clings to his slender body in one long, uninterrupted suit, tight around lean muscles that flex and relax as he floats in the air. His wings are gorgeous, incorporeal things, somehow every pastel color at once, something difficult to perceive and yet irresistible to stare upon. They remind him strongly of the stained glass window behind him, and he’s almost certain if he were to try and touch one of the dagger-like feathers he would surely cut his hand upon it.

“Brother,” Lloyd says in hushed excitement, grinning wide.

Mithos extends his hand palm down, long ghostly feathers trailing from his wrists. He smiles at Lloyd with half of his face, only his lips moving. Lloyd takes his hand and presses his lips against one of the knuckles.

“Giving your respects to the Goddess, are we?” Mithos says, pulling his hand away after his tribute.

“As always! I’m going to visit Col-- ah, the Daughter of Luna after this, too.”

“She’ll appreciate that, I’m sure,” Mithos says distantly, his eyes trailing to the pulpit where Lloyd left his offerings. “You cooked something?”

“Ah, yeah, just an apple,” Lloyd glances behind him. “I cut it up and put some cinnamon and sugar on it and I baked it with some butter. Genis showed me how. I thought maybe She would appreciate it.”

Mithos’ face softens at the name drop. His voice stays the same, steady cool, “Careful not to fall too easily into indulgences, Lloyd.”

“I-I know,” Lloyd stammers.

Mithos reaches forward to pick up Lloyd’s left hand. He circles his thumb around the cool glass-like sphere of blue that emerges just above his wrist, and then over the keycrest that mounts it. Lloyd blinks up at him, tilting an eyebrow.

“Lloyd… You’re loyal to me, yes?”

“Of course, brother. Always.”

“Not like your treacherous father.” The venomous remark makes Lloyd frown. Mithos looks past Lloyd and at the depiction of the Goddess Martel, and for a moment he swears he sees something in his eyes; something that smacks of betrayal, of disappointment, maybe even a wistful nostalgia. 

“No. I like to think I’ve proven myself to you, brother.”

"And you have. But faith is always tested, my dear Lloyd. And we must be strong in the face of sins and temptation." Mithos turns and taps Lloyd's nose. Lloyd wrinkles his nose, blinking a couple of times, his nose still tingling seconds after the fact.   


"Y-yeah, of course." Lloyd tilts his head, his forehead creasing as he tries to decipher Mithos’ intentions. An almost impossible feat for a mere mortal like Lloyd. "Is something going on, my lord?"

Mithos inclines his head once more, gazing up at the high ceiling. He’s quiet for a moment, his arms folded behind his back, and all Lloyd can hear is the  _ whoosh _ of his own breathing and the  _ whoosh _ of the air moving around Mithos, keeping him afloat.   


"Yes, actually. Something is coming. Our plans are moving along smoothly, Lloyd, and soon we'll be able to save the people of Aselia from their eternal suffering. We'll fulfill the wish of the Goddess."   


Lloyd didn’t expect an answer like that. His chest flutters with hope. "We'll bring the world salvation,” he says, breathless. 

_ Colette won’t have to hurt anymore. _   


Mithos actually smiles this time, and Lloyd blinks, almost not able to return it.   


"Run along, Lloyd. Give Colette my regards."   


"Yes, my lord."

 

~

 

Lloyd makes his way through the mostly empty halls of Welgaia, a mission in his step. His knee-high boots echo as they thud against the steel blue floors, his reflection practically mirrored in the tiles. The same teal embellishments from the prayer room he frequents also decorate the walls here, along with everywhere else, providing bright artificial light to guide the way. When it’s quiet like this in the smaller halls, and he focuses, Lloyd can hear the warm electric hum that emanates from them. It’s much quieter and almost pleasant, compared to the larger complex machinery.

He emerges from the domed hallway and into a massive plaza, where the mysterious Welgaian sky looms, a sea of nebulous purples and blues and blacks. There are plenty more people here bustling about, mostly half-elves, everyone with their own duties to tend to. Some are winged and take airways to get to higher floors or to cross voids; some aren’t winged, like Lloyd, and are forced to take the slower lifts.

Lloyd grumbles as he stands on one of these lifts, beginning his slow ascent.  _ Once I get my wings, I’m flying literally everywhere. You won’t be able to stop me. _

Lloyd jumps the last gap before the lift stops. He waves at everyone he passes, naming everyone individually, even the anonymous helms of soldiers and the ducked heads of hard-working scientists. Very rarely did he get an enthusiastic response back to his greeting, but all he needed was a nod, a dismissive wave, or even a grunt of recognition.

“Lloyd!” A familiar voice cuts through the natural gloom, and Lloyd is already smiling before he turns to face him. Finally, someone who’s actually happy to see him.

“Genis! Oh, and Doctor Sage.” Lloyd bows his head respectfully, his right hand placed over his heart.

The two figures come to stand in front of Lloyd; Genis, a short teenager with hair as white and soft as feather down and eyes like the sky below, wide and blue; next to him, Raine, taller than Lloyd, with the same hair flared around her neck and the same eyes, although wiser, sharper. Lloyd blinks as he looks between them, noticing something new. As long as he’d known Raine, she’d always had elegant wings, modestly folded against her back. Genis, meanwhile, itches for Lloyd to mention his badly hidden ones.

“Genis-- your wings grew in?”

Genis beams, and he flares his new limbs with pride. “I told you I was undergoing my Trial, right? I did it so well I was rewarded with my wings early!”

The Trial of the Goddess Martel, usually just known as Trial, was something all exsphere owners got to participate in at the behest of Mithos. There were several different ones, unique to each undertaker. It was meant to further one’s personal and spiritual growth, and could activate angelic boons as a symbol of increased divinity. Almost every person on Welgaia had undergone some level of Trial, as far as Lloyd knew.

Almost every person, except himself.

A pulse of envy rocks Lloyd’s chest. He swallows it down, tamps it away, ignores it. With a big cheer, he scoops Genis up in his arms. “Finally, now you have feathers that aren’t in your brain!”

“Hey! You’re the featherbrain here!” Genis laughs, his wings flailing as Lloyd lifts him up. Raine looks on, covering a smile.

“Careful, now,” Raine says, glancing down the hallways. “We don’t want to get too rowdy.”

“We should celebrate!” Lloyd sets Genis down and claps him on the shoulders. “Oh, but later, I have to go meet with Colette and make sure she’s doing okay.”

“Lloyd.” Raine addresses him like she always does, looking down her pointed nose at him, her brows angled downward. He didn’t know if she meant to be so intimidating, or if that was just the way she was bred. Always severe and professional, like a surgeon, her back as straight as her principles. “I don’t know that Colette is able to accept visitors today.”

“What do you mean?”

“Her angelic transformation is progressing through a painful stage.” Her voice is clinical, and yet Raine explains with her slender hands outstretched, her worry betrayed in her tight gestures, in the way she leans forward to engage. “She was unable to speak for much of the morning and her sleep has suffered. She might not be able to handle a regular conversation with another.”

With a small nod, Lloyd glances behind her down the hallway, towards Colette’s chambers. His chest tightens at the thought of her alone in a state like that.

“We don’t have to talk. I’ll just be there for her.” He smiles at her, and he notices the relief in her posture, as slight as it is. She doesn’t smile so much as her face relaxes, but Lloyd appreciates her concern all the same. “Thanks, Doctor Sage.”

They say their goodbyes, Genis flapping his wings in a showy flail as they leave.

 

The rest of the way to the chamber has Lloyd anxious to reach Colette, a swallow caught in his throat as he focuses on his steps. Not too quick. One at a time. If he doesn’t focus, he’ll break into a sprint. Getting there faster won’t heal her, and getting caught running in the hallway without a ‘real’ emergency was grounds for punishment. Nevertheless, Lloyd went as quick as he could, ignoring passersby, eyes focused at the corner of the hall, at the turn, through the last familiar length of hallway.

_ She needs me. She needs me. _

Lloyd jogs the last few steps to the door, a cold steel rectangle without a handle. A small panel embedded in the wall beside it lights up at his approach, projecting a blue screen that he passes his fingers through, typing out a single word.

It blips a disapproving tone,  _ do-do-do. _

He tries again with a growl, glaring at the stars that indicate his entry. It would be easier if he could see what he was typing.

_ Do-do-do.  _ A child shaking a finger at him, denying him access without the secret password.

“Come ON,” he snarls, thrusting both his hands through the screen. It fizzles and reconstitutes, and the empty password field stares him down. Lloyd knuckles his fists into his forehead.

_ One more time. Calm down. Think about it. _

The characters swim in his head no matter how hard he focuses, and staring at the keyboard becomes more difficult the longer he tries. Letters switch and dance and look the same. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, clenching his fists over and over.

_ Rely on muscle memory _ , he tells himself.  _ Go slowly _ . He opens his eyes and starts again, aligning his fingers. “Y. G. G. … R… no… D…” He pokes at the keyboard, his forehead wrinkling. “Then R… A S I L.”

The door opens. Lloyd steps inside, mixed feelings of gratitude and shame rising in his cheeks. That took way too long this time. Fortunately, nobody had been around to see him. The last thing he needed was more ridicule to smile through.

His embarrassment evaporates. His breath catches in his throat.

Colette is collapsed on the floor.

She looks so small and pitiful there as she struggles to sit up, braced on her elbows. Immediately Lloyd is on his knees, his hands on her arms. She’s so fragile under his palms he’s afraid she’ll crumble into sand, but he helps her up anyway and he lets her cling to him. She trembles in his arms as she clutches at his uniform with scaly hands.

“S-sorry,” she breathes, on the cusp of tears. “I fell.”

Lloyd hushes her gently, pulling her into his arms. With a shiver, she focuses on her shallow breathing, each exhale the ghost of a sob as she tries to keep from crying. All Lloyd can do is hold her.

Colette doesn’t look like she should be so weak. Her face, while pale, is full and round, framed by healthy locks of golden hair that seems to give off its own light as it streams down her shoulders. Swathed in muted robes that cover her from the top of her neck to past her tiny feet, one almost couldn’t tell her frame was so slight.

Her shaking wings catch his eye, like they always do, eventually. They extend outward, small and as pink as candy, with plentiful and rounded feathers. The only spaces of skin exposed through the cloth are the space between her collarbones where her cruxis crystal lies, and the space between her shoulder blades. But instead of smooth and pale flesh, the feathers emerge from blue scales, which presumably cover most of her body.

_ (“It’s gross, isn’t it? It’s  _ disgusting _ , isn’t it?”) _

“Hey,” Lloyd says just to fill the silence, hushed in her ear, petting the back of her head. He feels the ridge of halo that protrudes from her head, horn-like and smooth, wrapped from ear to ear. She relaxes as he touches her, her face buried against his chest.

He can barely hear her when she says, “It got bigger.”

“I heard it’s worse today. The pain, I mean.” Lloyd knows no one is watching them, but he still glances around the room before he presses his lips against her crown. “I’m here for you, Col. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”

She lifts her head and blinks up at him, and Lloyd is reminded of the ocean below them, vast and shimmering, nestled underneath the crest of the sky atop which Derris-Kharlan sat. Her smile is thankful, sincere, beautiful as she is, and Lloyd’s chest blooms with affection just to look at her.

“Thank you, Lloyd. It means a lot to me.” She leans up to kiss him on the cheek, and Lloyd leans forward to accept it. They’d been doing this for years, secret affectionate gestures between the two of them. A sign of their bond; something that kept her grounded and sane, despite her greater cause. Lloyd felt it kept him sane, too.

“What were you trying to do before you fell?”

“I wanted to get a book to read.”

Lloyd braces his arm against her back and slips the other under her knees to pick her up. He rests her on her bed, smoothing out her robe and adjusting her pillows and blankets for her. The bookshelf is across the neatly kept room, and only a few books are stacked on the shelves, ones she’s read possibly thousands of times. He makes his way over and rubs his chin as he squints at the titles.

“Do you care which one?”

“Can I get the one with the dogs?” Colette pulls her knees to her chest as she watches him.

Easy. Lloyd spots it between two other books, the weathered spine giving it away. He takes it into his hands and checks the cover. It’s a plain cloth cover with embossed gold lettering, but towards the bottom, Colette scratched a crude picture of two puppy dogs.

He walks it over to her and hands it over with a smile, sitting at the foot of her bed. She cracks it open and shoves her nose into the binding, taking a deep sniff of the pages.

“You nerd!” Lloyd jokes.

“This is the best smell in the world.” Colette peeks over the top of the book at him. “What’s your favorite? Smell, I mean.”

Lloyd leans back onto his arms, looking up at the ceiling.

“I really love the smell of apples,” he says, closing his eyes. “There are all different kinds of them in Eden of Spring, all different colors. Some of them don’t smell very strongly, but the really aromatic ones are super juicy and sweet. And when you cook them, they get even better.” His mouth waters at the thought of biting into one, and his stomach growls. “Oops.”

Colette giggles. “I wish I could try one.”

“Maybe someday.” Lloyd’s head lolls to one side as he looks at her. “Okay? I promise.” 

Colette’s smile is wistful. She looks at Lloyd with some kind of pity, like she knows something he doesn’t. His gut twists. 

_ Colette wouldn’t hide anything from me. Is that what’s happening here? Or am I completely making this up?  _

Lloyd leans closer to her, his voice firm. “You won’t be here forever, Colette. This thing you’re going through, it’s just, it’s like a cocoon. You’re the Daughter of Luna, the Spirit of Light! You’ll-- you’ll transform, and you’ll be  _ amazing _ , and you’ll make the world a better place for everyone.” He smiles as he grows breathless, caught up in his enthusiasm, and yet Colette’s expression doesn’t change. “And I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

“Mmm.” She giggles. “Yeah. I’m looking forward to it, Lloyd.”

Her response feels wrong. Hollow. Frustration knots inside Lloyd’s belly. He huffs, losing his smile. “Mithos told me something big is happening soon.”

An uncomfortable silence settles between the two. Lloyd waits for some kind of reaction. Some kind of hope. Colette, instead, closes her book and averts her gaze. She stares at a corner of the room, and Lloyd can’t read her expression anymore. Something has left her eyes.

Finally, she takes a breath. “I know.”

“You know?”

“I… I can feel it.” Colette presses her hand against her chest. “I’ve felt it for days now. This looming feeling of dread. I can’t sleep, I’ve had terrible nightmares about fire and steam, about someone screaming with rage. It hurts me. It terrifies me. Something’s coming. Something’s  _ coming _ , Lloyd.”

Lloyd frowns. He reaches for Colette’s free hand, only to find her trembling. She squeezes his fingers as tightly as she can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter is halfway done, and things get exciting real quick. :3 I hope you enjoyed this chapter, again I need to plug vampirecaligula's work, seriously, go check it the fuck out you won't regret it
> 
> I'll probably add more tags as the need arises. Please leave me your honest criticism and comments below, I really appreciate every word and every comment fills with a vast love that increases my powers, until I become Godlike and none of you can stop me.


	2. The Seraph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, chapter two is here! It moves along pretty quickly, I got a lot of story to get out and there's no time to dilly-dally. This one is unbeta'd so please gimme your honest criticism in the comments below, I'll note if I made any changes here.
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS:  
> Body Horror, Emetophobia, Emotional Abuse  
> (For specific spoiler tags, skip to the end notes before reading!)

 

Lloyd barely sleeps that night, and wakes uneasy. No matter what he does, he feels too warm and too agitated to relax, which is a problem when he has an entire list of duties to tend to that day. He wonders if he has a fever, but he doesn’t want to bother Raine at the med bay.

He decides to dress light that morning, foregoing the cloak-like pauldrons that usually drape over his shoulders and down his back like coat-tails. He sticks with his waistcoat, with dark buttons and a belted design, slipped over a black bodysuit that covers him toe to neck. He straps on knee-high boots and belts his weapons onto him, a dagger around his thigh and a long thin sword around his waist.

Lloyd takes a moment at the mirror in his small room, running his hands through his spiked hair until it looks just tousled enough to call it bedhead. It’s growing a little long, if the hair that refuses to spike with the rest of his look means anything; they look like stubborn feathers that jut from the nape of his neck. He finds them a little charming.

Before he leaves, he makes a quick sweep around his room, gathering up his discarded clothing and tending to the plants he keeps on his windowsill. He liked living in this section of Welgaia, somewhere on the edge, where he could stare down at the actual Earth with an outward-facing window. Today, Derris-Kharlan floats over a misty mountain range devoid of people, snow gathering on the peaks as soft as spun cotton. He takes a moment to make a quick prayer at the window here, lighting another stick of incense as was his tradition.

 

The usually cool hallways of Welgaia find him sweating as he leaves his living quarters. He makes his way towards the main atrium, taking the stairs up two at a time. Unusually, he doesn’t run into anybody on the way to the Center Garden, even down one of the main arteries of Welgaia. He jogs rather than walks, his increasing anxiety nipping at his ankles.

Inside the room of the Garden, he feels a little better. He’s always felt drawn to the nature in the Garden as a whole, as opposed to the industrial aesthetic of Welgaia. The section the smithy is located is in the throes of Eden of Spring, possibly Lloyd’s favorite season. 

The vast domed ceiling above is a cool, misty blue, kissing the green landscape below with morning dew. It’s so large that Lloyd can’t see the edges of it; the only reason he knows a ceiling is even there is from the faint grid lines that score the length. It rained recently, the air clean and fresh with the smell of freshly turned dirt and new foliage. Spring flowers bloom at his feet, and Lloyd is careful to step over them as he makes his way to the smithy towards the center.

It’s a good ten minute walk yet, but it’s a relatively pleasant one, surrounded by soft green grass and blooms in every color and size. Trees flank the dirt path he walks along one side, the branches heavy with fresh fruit ready to be harvested. Lloyd is always amazed at just how massive this garden is, how perfectly it simulates the earthly season of Spring. Not that he has ever experienced Spring on earth for himself, but he imagines it’s just as good.

However, the usual sounds of the garden seem muted, if not completely silent; no birds chirp gaily in the trees, no half-elf gardener bustles at the hedges, no dwarves with their boisterous laughter. Even the wind doesn’t blow, leaving an eerie stillness.

His anxiety returns in full swing when the smithy comes into view and nobody else is around. At least the building is open to the air, just a single wall on a stone platform, with brick pillars and a charming wooden roof. He removes some of his clothing first, his waistcoat going up onto the designated hook for his things. He unzips the bodysuit to his waist, securing it under his belt. The morning air should be freezing on his bare torso, but he still feels uncomfortably warm. Working at the forge will only make it worse. However...

“Duty calls,” Lloyd sighs, firing up the brick hearth. He’s worked with the craftsman dwarves since he was young, always more suited to heavy lifting than to heavy thinking. At this point, it’s all second nature.

He slips on work gloves, and then grabs a work belt to wrap around his waist, selecting a worn pair of tongs and a hammer he forged himself to slip onto it. Shuffling over to a bin nearby, Lloyd carefully selects a lumpy piece of inhibitor ore, brushing off the dirt on its surface.

( _ “Something’s  _ coming _ , Lloyd.” _ )

Lloyd rinses off the ore and dries it, checking the surface for impurities before he clasps it in his tongs. He tosses it into the fire of the hearth and, using a giant bellows through a long steel pipe, stokes the coals inside until ribbons of flame dance out of the opening. A good, clean fire.

( _ “...terrible nightmares about fire and steam.” _ )

And then he drops the workpiece onto the ground as he extracts it from the hearth. He curses as it just misses his boots, biting his tongue before he stoops to pick it up again. A big dent has already formed on the side of the surprisingly malleable stone.

Oh well. Onto the anvil it goes. 

The hammer he made is the perfect size dye to form most keycrests, which were always needed for when someone went through their Trial. Raine once explained to him how the inhibitor ore acted as a catalyst for mana, and the process of refining and imbuing it into a usable state enhanced blah blah blah blah. Damn if he could remember.

All he needed to know about keycrests was how to make one, and to never take off his own, lest he “suffer the consequences”, in Mithos’ words. It kept him safe.

_ So why doesn’t Colette have one?  _

_ Is it because she’s special? Because she’s the Daughter of Luna? _

Lloyd holds the workpiece between his tongs and smacks it with a mighty swing from the hammer, letting momentum do all the work for him.

_ What if I made one for her? Would it even work? _

_ What if it took some of her pain away? _

“Yer off yer game,” a voice says from by his thigh, distracting Lloyd as he lifts the hammer. He misses by almost a foot, the hammer clanging off the anvil instead. Lloyd flinches as the harsh sound rattles his bones.

He pulls back to leer at the voice, wiping the sweat off his forehead before it drips into his eyes. Dirk stands with his arms folded, his eyes severe under bushy eyebrows, his frown severe under a bushy moustache. He clucks his tongue disapprovingly.

“If yer got somethin’ more important on your mind, you oughter be doin’ less dangerous activities than swingin’ around the forge. I raised you better than that.”

Lloyd wants to roll his eyes, but he knows better. He sighs, dropping the hammer on the ground.

“Sorry, Dirk. Just… something feels weird about today. I’ve been on edge all morning.”

“So y’came by to muddy up the atmosphere with that kinda energy? ‘Preciate it, not like we want to get anythin’ worthwhile done around here.”

Lloyd stares hard at the cooling ore on the anvil, still between his tongs. He flips it over a couple of times before mumbling an apology.

Dirk sighs. “Sorry, my boy. I’ve felt it too. Been irritable myself.” He scratches at the tuft of brown hair on top of his head, grumbling something under his breath. “Haven’t seen hardly no one, the other dwarves’re holed up somewhere complainin’ about hangovers, of all things.”

“What’s a ‘hangovers’?”

“Ahh… Don’t worry about it, lad.” Dirk waves his hand. He points at the workpiece. “Who’s that one for?”

“A soldier.” Lloyd drops it into the slack tub and it unleashes a sudden  _ hiss _ of steam as soon as it breaches the surface of the water. He flinches. “This one might be a lost cause, though.”

“Listen, Lloyd.” Dirk lifts his brows, and Lloyd can see the concern in his warm eyes. “You should take the day off for today. I know you aren’t used to that, and we got a lot o’ work to do, I know, but I think we can make an exception this time.” For all his hard edges, he did practically raise him from childhood, and the bond between them is unmistakable. He could almost call him ‘dad’.

A big grin splits his face. “You mean it? Thanks a million, Dirk!”

“Ah, don’t mention it. Yer ol’ boss is soft in his old age.” Dirk smiles, hooking his thumbs into his belt. “Run along. Maybe visit your lil friend, the half-elf.”

“Genis? That’s a good idea.” Lloyd pulls his clothes back on, the red fabric fitting snug. “I wonder if he feels this weird atmosphere too.”

He bids farewell to Dirk and treks down the dirt pathway, towards the door where he entered earlier. This time, he reaches up to grab a couple of braeburn apples from a particularly robust tree. He makes sure they have firm, unbroken skins, admiring the streaky red-and-gold flesh as he pockets them. As uncomfortable as he feels, he still needs to make sure to eat.

 

His anxiety doesn’t get better as he exits.

It is at least ten degrees hotter than it was before. Lloyd feels sweat drip down his lower back before he gets even halfway down the hallway towards the laboratories. It feels like Summer-- It feels like an unbearable, humid Summer, and something bitter tinges the air, and breathing becomes harder through it.

“What’s going on?” Lloyd says to himself, pulling on his collar.

A horrendous scream rips through the air as if to answer him.

Lloyd whips around, immediately going into a fighting stance. His sword and dagger make their way into his hands as he searches for the source of the scream, circling around. No one else is in the hallway with him, and there are no other rooms in this section that it could have come from. So why did it seem so nearby?

He hears it again. A horrible, desperate sound. Dread grips his chest. Despite the ringing in his ears as it cuts out, he heads for the source, somewhere towards the labs-- towards where Genis and Raine would be around this time.

Again. A scream more human than monster. Angry, and anguished, and absolute.

The halls are a blur as he runs. There’s no one to crash into. The lifts are empty, and not fast enough, so he takes the stairs. He runs until his sides develop stitches, until he wheezes, until sweat drenches his skin, but he can’t stop.

He has to get to the laboratory.

Lloyd rounds the corner of a hall so fast that he nearly falls over, just as another hellish roar pierces the air. The heat is unbearable. He hears flames before he sees them, throwing open doors until he’s blinded by a flood of light.

The scream engulfs him. He stumbles forward into the room, and somehow the heat doubles.

He blinks until his vision returns to him.

The laboratories are all separated by floors, each one with a different purpose. This floor contains rooms meant to observe live biological experiments, usually involving monsters. They’re versatile enough that they’re also used to observe Trials, if that is the personal nature of the Trial.

He’s not sure which this is.

The observing room is small, despite the tall glass window on the opposite wall. The room is filled with vicious golden light, and Lloyd can only barely make out a clustered group of figures, bracing themselves against the sheer rage emanating from the sunken chamber ahead of them. One of the figures is Mithos, the only one unaffected by the sight within, floating with his arms crossed.

“Lord-- Lord Mithos!” Lloyd cries out, his voice cracking. “What’s going on?! What is that?!”

Mithos turns, a sheer silhouette, a comforting sight in the chaos despite his stern face. He reaches to Lloyd, placing a firm hand between his shoulders and leading him closer to the window. The other figures look at Lloyd, and he recognizes one as Raine, wearing thick shaded goggles. The other two are complete strangers to him.

Another scream sounds, and Lloyd hears the furious flapping of so many wings and the slam of chains going taut among the flames. He squints to peer through the glass, through the fire, and he sees a shape in the chaos.

Three pairs of flaming, golden wings, somehow full of teeth that gnash the at the air like a wild animal’s maw, attached to a fleshy body that melts red and white over a human’s skeletal frame. Eyes, eyes, eyes, too many eyes buried in too little skin, bloodshot and spasming in their sockets with pinprick slits for pupils. Blackened claws attach to blackened hands that open and close and grasp for something, something, grasp at the walls, at the chains, at the glass window that seems far too weak to hold it back. It opens an impossible forge of a mouth full of so many fangs and screams the guttural scream of a man in terror, far too human for a thing like this.

Bile rises into Lloyd’s mouth, into his hands, onto the floor. Mithos forces him upright, his fingers bruising his shoulders. He hisses into his ear, a mocking lilt in his tone.

“ _ Don’t show it your fear _ .”

Lloyd’s eyes sting, bleary with tears and sweat, and he tries to find something else to stare at. He finds blackened, misshapen stones on the floor with the creature inside; when one curls inside itself he’s horrified to understand that those are the bodies of soldiers.

He’s never seen dead, desiccated bodies before. He could have known those people, and now they’re completely unrecognizable. He clutches at Mithos, struggling to form words, struggling to keep from wailing like a toddler at a nightmare. Mithos chuckles as he wraps an arm around Lloyd’s shoulder. He lifts his wrist to his mouth and speaks.

“Give it a deluge.”

Massive shutters open up in the ceiling above the creature, and devastating torrents of water gush into the chamber. The scream sounds again before it is cut off by gurgles and the vicious hiss of steam, the creature swept up into the violent waves as the room fills. The charred soldiers disintegrate into ash, turning the water into a churning gray slurry. The room begins to cool off now that the flames are doused, and Lloyd finds it easier to breathe.

“What is that thing?” Lloyd finally asks. The sickening horror that clutched his guts begins to ebb away now that the monstrous form is gone from sight. He looks up at Mithos, who pats his arm.

“A catalyst.”

Lloyd blinks at him, but before he can ask again, Mithos pulls away from him. Curiosity overtakes him, despite the empty ache in his belly, and he turns back to the window. The figures begin to speak to Mithos, but he can’t make them out over the sound of the water and his own drumming heartbeat. He can barely make out the chained monster inside. He steps forward, right up to the glass, eyes peeled. The room is already halfway full of clouded, foamy water, the steam condensing on the window and making it even harder to see through. He draws a huge arc into the fog with his arm.

To his shock, instead of a monster, he sees a man with long red hair breaching the surface of the water, gasping for breath. He flaps golden wings soaked in ashy water, but Lloyd sees him stop suddenly as he reaches the length of the chains that hold him. He watches as the man is pulled under again, knocked into a somersault by the force of the waves. He manages to surface again after a heart-stopping moment. He sobs a cry for help.

“Mithos! He’s had enough!” Lloyd throws a pleading look at Mithos, his voice hoarse. “He’s-- he’s an angel!”

Mithos looks cooly at Lloyd, considering him for a moment. A small smirk quirks the corner of his lip as he lifts his wrist to his lips again. “Drain the room.”

The shutters above close, and the rushing sound of draining water fills his head. It leaves too slowly. Lloyd presses his hands against the window, muttering to himself, “c’mon, c’mon, please be alive.”

He sees him float to the top as the water calms, as the water drains, as the water lays him gently onto the tile floor. The man lies motionless in a heap of feathers, his long red hair splayed in such a way that Lloyd first feared he was covered in blood. 

At the man’s first splutters and gasps for air, Lloyd also breathes, relieved to his very bones. He counts six wings, as they shift and flutter over the man’s heaving body, rivulets of water streaming off them still. The man spasms as he vomits water, and nothing but water.

“A seraph,” Lloyd whispers, his breath fogging the glass in front of him.

“Well.  _ That  _ was certainly a demonstration,” he hears one of the strangers say in a dry voice.

Lloyd turns, finally able to see the two new people: The first, a tall man with blue hair pulled into a loose ponytail, wearing what looks to be a long, translucent cape down his back. It shimmers when he turns, and Lloyd can’t seem to tell what material it’s made of. The second, a curvy woman shrouded in dark purple robes that cover the lower half of her face, with dark hair done up in a style he’d never seen before, and striking eyes that leave him feeling boneless under their gaze.

He breaks their eye contact to look at Raine, who lifts her goggles to her forehead. She doesn’t acknowledge Lloyd. Her face is almost inscrutable, except for the slight wibble of her lower lip just before she turns to a holographic screen and begins to type.

The man who spoke raises his hand to Mithos, and Lloyd sees an exsphere glimmer on the back of his hand.

“My Lord, with your permission, we’ll get him cleaned up for you and taken to his living quarters where he can get comfortable. His files have already been sent to your scientists by the Cardinal who developed him. The Son of Efreet has a long way to go yet, but I think you’ll find he’ll rise to the occasion.”

Mithos taps his chin with a knuckle. He turns back to the window, and floats to go stand next to Lloyd. “Mm, don’t move him just yet.”

“My Lord?”

"Leave him to marinate," Mithos holds a hand up, chuckling. "Let him sit in his mess. Perhaps the wet floor will offer him more reflection than he's ever had in his life."

The man and the woman both adopt disturbed expressions, and Lloyd can’t hide his own disgust.  The woman especially seems indignant, and she works her jaw under the shroud of her face covering. But the man eventually nods, holding up a hand to the woman as she steps forward.

“As you wish, Lord Mithos. We shall take our leave, then.” They both bow and leave the room with little fanfare. Raine is hot on their tails, gone without a word.

Lloyd starts to follow them, at least wanting a word with Doctor Sage, at least wanting to know who the strangers were, at  _ least _ wanting to know what the hell was going on.

“Wait a moment, Lloyd,” Mithos calls sweetly, and Lloyd stops to focus entirely on him. He’s not sure he can trust his voice right now, and he hopes his face asks it all: how confused he is, much more how terrifying that whole experience was for him. How he’s a little upset that he wasn’t given more of a heads-up.

How much he wants to go and help the drowned man in the sunken chamber.

Mithos places his hands on Lloyd’s shoulders, floating in such a way that Lloyd has to tilt his head up to properly see him and his tranquil smile. And to lay eyes on him is so soothing besides, Lloyd doesn’t mind, although his face still twists with worry.

“Can you tell me, Lloyd, what the being in the chamber is?”

Lloyd swallows the dryness in his throat and thinks for a moment. “He’s… I heard that man call him the Son of Efreet. He's a seraph, isn't he?”

“Yes. It is a monstrosity. But it is a seraph, as well.”

"I didn't know there was another one," Lloyd stares wide-eyed at Mithos. Mithos doesn't share his look, staring disdainfully through the window. Lloyd follows his gaze, almost afraid to look back at the creature-- at the man-- at the  _ angel _ sprawled on the ground.   


"Where there is light, there is also shadow, Lloyd." Mithos narrows his eyes, although his smile never slackens. "As much as I am loathe to admit it, this heathen is also imperative to our plans."   


“Alright… so who were those other people?”

“Couriers. Unimportant. They will not be involved in the ultimate fate of our world, except to have delivered, which was always their role.”

Lloyd grits his teeth, glaring hard through the window. “Okay, fine. So why are we leaving that man in there to just lie there?”

“It's not a man. You saw its true form, Lloyd.” Mithos lifts a brow. “Clearly, not even close to a human being whatsoever. His black soul has permeated his outer shell and turned him into a true abomination.”

“Man or angel or-- or  _ demon _ , it's cruel to just let him sit in a puddle like that! He could get sick, or something! Even he deserves better, brother!”

Mithos’ face goes dark, his resting smile disappearing. “Are you raising your voice at me?” 

Lloyd’s gut twists again, developing a painful cramp. “N-no, I'm just worried.”

Staring him down, Mithos says nothing for a long moment. His expression is poisonous. Lloyd inwardly squirms. His jaw feels glued shut, he grinds his teeth in the sheer silence.

Mithos’ face finally relaxes back into that same smile as before. He sighs. “That’s just like you, Lloyd. So passionate and caring, so sweet and earnest, that you make such stupid choices.”

And just like that, he turns to leave the room as well. Before he reaches the door, he stops.

"Lloyd... he will test your faith." He glances over his shoulder. "Stay away from him. The heathen deserves none of your attention."

Lloyd doesn’t turn back to him, doesn’t answer. He hears Mithos leave with a gentle rush of breath, the sound of his wings on the air. His stomach still churns, his mind at odds with his heart as he stares back into the chamber. He can’t shake the sound of the angel’s screams from the edges of his mind; how they were somehow so many emotions at once, and the fear and anguish they evoked from him.

_ If that’s how I felt, then the angel must have felt a million times worse. _

Lloyd presses his face against the window, his mouth twisted in a grimace. The angel lies there on the ground still, and Lloyd swears he can see him shivering. He hesitates before he knocks, three clear raps on the glass.

The angel lifts his head at the sound, shakily pulling himself up onto one arm. He coughs and vomits more fluid, his claws scraping at the floor. When his fit is through, he finally looks back up at the window above him, and Lloyd sucks in a breath.

He’s the most beautiful man Lloyd has ever seen. Ruddy-faced and filthy besides, his gorgeous shape remains, high cheekbones and full lips and a pointed nose. His red hair seems to glow on its own, draped around his shoulders and stuck to his wet face. Lloyd has never seen such a color before, except in the blood that pools in the cuts on his fingers.

And he has three eyes. Three eyes that stare him down, strip him to his barest soul.

Three huge, pale blue, and unblinking eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POST READ:
> 
> Thank you for reading! Chapter three is being written and I'm tryin to keep the momentum going. I'm having a lot of fun mulling all my ideas around in my brain and I just hope it all comes out in a way that makes good plot sense!
> 
> This is the first chapter that needed warnings, and I wanted to make absolutely sure I stayed as open as possible so that everyone can enjoy a sort of dark story without being surprised by something that triggers them. I also really want it to be in a way that doesn't spoil key parts of the story for people who don't need warnings. It's really important to me that I do this properly, so please let me know if the warnings are sufficient or if there's another thing that I need to warn about that maybe I missed.
> 
> PRE-READ CHAPTER WARNING DETAILS:  
> Body horror: A supernaturally twisted human body is described in detail, along with burned corpses.  
> Emetophobia: Two characters vomit something like three times total.  
> Drowning: A character very nearly drowns in a vast amount of water.  
> Emotional abuse: Mithos threatens Lloyd for speaking out of line, Lloyd fears retaliation from angering him.


	3. Vulnerable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lloyd makes a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter three is here!
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS:  
> self harm (by hitting)  
> injury (slight)
> 
> Thanks again to @supershadsy and @weirdcuneiform for helping me beta! Go check out their work-- supershadsy and vampirecaligula on AO3!

“I can’t believe I missed all that!” Genis exclaims through a mouthful of apple, on the edge of his seat. His downy wings flap in excitement, practically lifting him into the air.

Lloyd forces a smile, fiddling with his other apple in his hands. His stomach is so empty it feels painful and raw, but he can’t bring himself to eat anything yet. “Yeah, it was kind of insane.”

He looks around the Sages’ living quarters, garnering some comfort from the familiarity. Almost every inch of the walls contains a bookshelf, and each shelf is so overstocked Lloyd is sure they must have every book ever written. Curious odds and ends also sit on some of the shelves, old things from Earth that Raine salvaged from her sabbaticals. Books that don’t have a place to go are stacked on the floor and on one of the two desks. The boys sit towards the kitchen area, in comfortable worn chairs around a tiny dinner table. In the corner is a bunk bed, both bunks neatly made. Other than the clutter, the room is pleasantly clean, if a little claustrophobic.

“So what do you think they’re gonna do with it? You think they’re gonna make Colette fight it?” Genis takes another bite of the braeburn apple, catching the juice with his palm as it dribbles down his chin.

“ _ Him _ , Genis. I don’t know what they want to do with him.” Lloyd nibbles at the apple skin, and his stomach turns. He slides his thumb over the surface instead, drawing over the gold and the red pattern. “They said he still had ‘a long way to go’, so he must be, like, developing like Colette is.”

“Man, that’ll be cool. I hope Raine gets to work with him, she tells me really cool stuff about the experiments she gets to deal with.” Genis sighs wistfully, leaning back in his chair and pinning his wings to the back of the seat. “I can’t wait until I’m old enough to do real scientist stuff. I asked Mithos if I could do some stuff now, and he just told me to be patient! But how can I be patient if  _ so many cool things _ are happening now?!”

“It’s dangerous work, Genis, and you’re only fourteen.”

“Yeah, and I’m the youngest person with their wings now, so your point is?”

“I guess I have none.” Lloyd snorts and tilts his head at Genis with a wry smile. “You’re smarter than me by leaps and bounds.”

“Of course I am.” Genis grins at him cheekily. “I’m smarter than, like, ninety percent of the people here. Except, like, Raine. Which is why I’m  _ saying _ \--”

Lloyd laughs. “Yeah yeah, I know! You're great! Hey, um, speaking of Raine, do you know where she would be right now?”

“Probably in the office or something, if she’s working on the demon thing. They probably put his files up, and if that’s the case, she’s definitely double or triple checking them, especially if this thing is as dangerous as it sounds.” Genis finishes his apple to the core and nibbles at the remains, getting his face even stickier. “If she was there today, they were probably debriefing her. Setting her password for the chamber. Y’know, the usual stuff.”

Lloyd pockets his apple. He taps his fingers on the table and sucks on his lip. “So. You wouldn’t happen to know what that password would  _ be _ , would you?”

“Wow. Lloyd. Subtle.” Genis levels a very Raine-like stare at him.

Lloyd winces. “I just-- I can’t stop thinking about him lying there. He’s probably scared! I mean, you heard the screams. If that were Colette, I’d break into the room and do whatever I could to save her.” He clenches his fists, glaring at one of the shelves. A statuette of an ugly looking beast glares back at him. “That angel is still a person, and he deserves to be helped!”

Genis sighs a long-suffering sigh, much too tired for someone his age. He stands up and chucks his apple core into the compost bin before he begins to shuffle through the papers on the messiest desk.

“She keeps all her passwords on a piece of paper just in case she gets so stressed she forgets. She doesn’t usually, but you know Raine.” Genis hums as he shuffles. “Just don’t get caught or anything, because Raine will know I helped you, and that’s an ass-whupping I don’t need.”

Lloyd laughs. “Genis, you’re the best! I owe you.”

“Yeah yeah yeah. You’d do the exact same thing for me, Lloyd. And… Here it is.” Genis holds up the sheet of paper like a trophy before setting it back down onto the desk and retrieving a pencil. “Looks like there’s a couple of them, so you’ll have to try a handful. Hopefully the system doesn’t lock you out. I’d go with you, but if I’m not here to make dinner, then Raine will.”

Genis and Lloyd both shudder. Raine’s cooking was a form of experimentation that even the most advanced of scientists couldn’t handle.

“So you’ll just have to do all the cool stuff without me! Again!” Genis rips off the page he’s written on with a flourish. “Just promise to bring me with you next time, mmkay?”

Suddenly, Lloyd’s desire to go visit the angel dampens. Lloyd swallows hard, staring at the page of words Genis hands him. The letters swim.

“Don’t look so down! You can do it.” Genis takes him by the shoulders, only the same height as him while Lloyd is sitting. “If I know you, I know that you’re dumb as hell, but you’re even more stubborn, and you get through anything when you try hard enough!”

“Uh, is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“I thought that was obvious. Lloyd, just do me a favor and don’t get maimed, okay? And also, tell me  _ everything _ that happens. I want to know every detail!” Genis grabs his waistcoat and yanks. His wings flap desperately as he digs his heels in and Lloyd resists his pull. “Go, go!”

 

Unceremoniously, Lloyd is dumped back into the hallway. He glares back at the door as it slides shut, and then he’s left alone with the industrial hum of the hallway.

Maybe this was a bad idea. Lloyd stares at the paper bunched in his fist for a long moment, considering his options: either throw the page away and forget about the new angel, or go do something risky for a person he’d never met before just because he felt obligated.

No, not obligated. Lloyd’s nose wrinkles. There was a real  _ person _ suffering in that chamber, and nobody should have to go through that. Even if Mithos seemed to think he deserved that fate.

Most of all, if there is any chance that the angel could shed some light on this whole situation, then Lloyd has to take it. He has to know what connection the Son of Efreet has with the Daughter of Luna, if any, and what purpose he serves in the salvation of Aselia and in the awakening of the Goddess Martel.

Lloyd closes his eyes, swallows, and says a silent prayer in his head.

_ Martel, guide me.  _

Lloyd begins his mission, his jaw as set as his mind.

 

It’s only been an hour since the seraph arrived and the monstrous incident occurred, and yet the main plaza is filled with people again, like nothing happened. Where they’d hidden before and where they’ve come from, Lloyd has no clue, but it makes it a little easier to blend into the crowd like usual. The entire time he walks he feels like he’s being watched, like everyone knows what he’s planning to do, and the paranoia is not unlike how he felt stealing cookies from the counter as a child.

He shouldn’t do this. He should listen to Mithos. Mithos knows what’s best. Mithos warned him for a reason, and he’s never lied to him once. And every time Lloyd ever did something against Mithos’ wishes, out of some sense of rebellion or his own foolish idealism, he always regretted it. But he cannot fight the unshakable feeling that this time, _ this time _ , Mithos is wrong.

Before he gets cold feet, he’s on the laboratory floor where the observed chambers can be entered.

The holographic panel by the door lights up at his approach, the same teal as the lights on the walls, and the keyboard angles towards him. Lloyd uncrumples the sheet of paper and stares at Genis’ neat handwriting, at least thankful for his good penmanship.

The first password starts with a V and has too many I’s, and ends with a handful of numbers that are at least easier to comprehend for Lloyd. Neither time he enters it triggers the door to open, emitting that irritating  _ do-do-do _ , and instead of fretting over the first password, he moves on to the next one.

After the fourth line, sweat trickles down Lloyd’s nose. Who needs this many passwords? His eyes cross as he holds the paper to his nose, forcing the letters to stay still one by one.

“L-I-L-B-R-O, the number fourteen, W-I-N-G-S.” Lloyd blinks as he spells it out. “Lilbro fourteen wings? What? Oh, Genis and his Trial. Aw.” He smiles fondly. Sometimes he forgets about Raine’s soft side.

_ She must be so proud of him. _

He manages to get the password typed in, and the keyboard beeps cheerfully at his correct input. The steel door slides open with a hiss. Lloyd immediately smells charred metal and bitter ozone.

 

Poking his head in, the room he enters is like a small, immaculate nurse’s office, with another shuttered metal door at the opposite end. The door behind him slides shut as he clears the entry, and he hears them lock again. He stares up at flatscreens with data he can’t understand, and he notices an identification picture along the muddled words; a picture of the redheaded angel, wearing a headband and a cocky smirk. 

Lloyd squints at the image. He only has two eyes here, and his hair curls around his neck, a little longer than jaw-length. He also has freckles smattered over his nose, which Lloyd couldn’t have noticed before. His smarmy look makes him seem…

“... Kinda douchey,” Lloyd mutters, rubbing his chin.

He breaks away from the screen to gather some materials. He’s not sure what he’ll find in the chamber, so he figures a little bit of everything will work out: a few large fluffy towels, a first aid kit, a canteen of drinkable water. He pats the hidden pocket in his waistcoat and feels his lock-picking kit jingle in response. This thing has gotten him into more trouble than he cares to remember, but as a gift from one of the shiftier dwarves, it also comes in handy. Hopefully, it’ll work on the shackles that keep the angel locked into place.

And if things get dangerous, he has his combat training and his weapons, although he doubts he’ll really need those. Would it be better to enter the chamber unarmed? Lloyd removes his sword and props it against the wall, but keeps his dagger.

The second door doesn’t need a password,  _ thank Martel _ , and he presses a button with his unladen hand to open it.

The smell is far worse in here, the humidity turning the burnt stench swampy. Despite the size of the room, it’s still warmer than normal, and as soon as he breaches the door he hits a wall of heat that makes his clothing stick to his skin. The door seals shut behind him, and he turns back, only to hear the door lock. A panel on the door lights up while he stands next to it, and his veins go cold.

_ Ohhhh shit. _

_ Well. Too late to turn back now. _

 

The observed chamber seems much bigger from the inside, Lloyd realizes. The room is typically pure white, lit by florescent lights, with large, even scores in the walls, floor, and ceiling, shaping them like gigantic grids. Now, the room is mottled with black and gray, sprays of wet ash clinging to the lower walls, and scorch marks marring the wall towards the ceiling. Among that, claw marks scrabble the floor, deep enough to trip over. Water pools in these marks, reminding Lloyd of the sprawling rivers he sees on Earth below.

He looks up to see the observation window he peered from mere hours ago, still coated in fog. That room is dark from here. The shutters in the ceiling drip on occasion, the only sound in the room other than the ragged breaths coming from the man still heaped on the ground.

“Hello?” Lloyd steps forward, looking for signs of movement from him. “Are you conscious?”

No response. Lloyd’s brow furrows. At the very least, he’s still breathing. That’s a good sign.

There are very few dry spots on the floor, and Lloyd finds himself trudging through puddles to make it to the angel. The two lengths of chains that hold the angel in place are massive, a single link bigger than Lloyd’s head. Each link also has symbols carved into them, which Lloyd recognizes as angelic runes. They connect to a steel plate embedded into the floor, and Lloyd’s breath catches as he notices the cracks and the distortion in the grid around the plate, the floor very nearly torn away.

“Unbelievable,” Lloyd whispers, toeing one of the blackened cracks until tile chips away. “What made this necessary at all? It’s not like you can get out of this chamber anyway...”

Despite the hammering in his chest, he ventures closer, until he kneels over the body of the angel. His wings reek from this close, still soaking wet, and ash flecks his pale skin and clumps in his waist-length hair. He has two pairs of wings on his back, and the third rest on his head, small and folded against his scalp. More oddities: instead of feet, he has hooves on digigrade legs, emerging from dark red fur that starts just below the knee; as well as that, he has a long dark tail, ending with a long tuft of hair the same color as the hair on his head.

Both chains attach to a massive cage-like clamp around the man’s torso. The cage itself is ornately wrought and studded with spikes, pressed tightly against the man’s skin in such a way that it looks painful. Lloyd cannot recognize the metal that these are cast from.

_ Did the dwarves put these together? They would have had to, for them to withstand holy fire. _

Lloyd leans forward to get a better look at the clamp. He gently pulls away wet strands of hair and brushes aside the feathers that stick to his skin. His eyes wander over the muscles in the angel’s back, webbed with dark purple veins that cluster around where his wings connect to his shoulderblades and ribcage.

His knuckles brush over the junction between feather and flesh. The skin is angry and hot under his fingers, the muscles tensed. Lloyd stares for a long while, forgetting himself as he cards his hand through the glistening feathers. They’re as radiant as sunshine, a color that reminds Lloyd of molten gold, sharp and long like the blade of a sword.

 

The angel twitches suddenly and Lloyd jumps back, falling ass-first into a puddle.

“Tickles,” he hears the angel mumble, slowly raising himself up onto an elbow. He lifts his head and Lloyd is met with that gorgeous face again. This time, a lazy smile sprawls over his face, and he angles a brow as he squints at Lloyd. “You just come in here to fondle me, then?”

“S-sorry, I’m just here to help,” Lloyd stammers, trying to look anywhere except at the third eye on his forehead, which also squints. “I brought towels, and a first aid kit. And fresh water.”

A moment of surprise crosses the angel’s face, before he laughs it off. Lloyd sees fangs glisten in his mouth. “You think I want more water after what I went through? Fucking idiot.”

“I didn’t _ have _ to come and help you!” Lloyd growls, his cheeks flushing. He’s about to admonish him more before he notices blood trickling down his face. “Ah-- you’re hurt. Here, let me...”

The angel blinks twice, watching as Lloyd shuffles with the towels around his neck. Lloyd dabs at his face, finding the source of the blood: two small pinpricks in his forehead, sharp points emerging from hard bulges in the skin.

“Here, let me get you out of that weird cage and then I can help you a little better.” Lloyd retrieves his lock picks from his pocket and stands over him, probing for the keyhole on the clamp.

“You’re  _ unlocking  _ me?” The angel laughs even more, derisively, disbelieving. He tries to turn his head to watch Lloyd standing over him. “You really are a fucking idiot. I could  _ kill _ you.”

“I know.” Lloyd’s heart rate doesn’t match the tone of his voice. “Do you really want to?”

The angel is silent. The cage clicks open. Lloyd pulls it apart easily, wincing at the angry red indents left behind. He’d never seen anything so inhumane before.  _ How could Mithos let something like this happen? _

 

With the cage taken care of, Lloyd helps the angel sit up, despite his protests. He insists that he can do it himself, but clings to Lloyd anyway, shaking so violently from fatigue that Lloyd wonders how he has any strength at all.

Notably, the angel has no clothing. Lloyd’s cheeks burn as his eyes bounce over his nakedness. He’s never seen another man naked before. Curiosity haunts his immediate thoughts, and the temptation to let his eyes wander is powerful enough to disturb him. Instead, he wraps towels around the angel, focusing on covering his lap, and then he gets to work sifting through the first aid kit.

 

“Who sentcha?” The angel asks.

“Nobody.” Lloyd squints at a tiny wrapped bandage.

“Ugh. These are new.” He pokes at his forehead with a pair of claws and frowns. “What’s your name?” It doesn’t sound like he cares.

“Hmph. Give me your name, and I’ll give you mine,” Lloyd grumbles, giving him a look. 

The angel raises his eyebrows and scoffs at him. “So you’re a brat, too.”

“You’re the one being rude!” Lloyd’s chest twists. He fumbles through the kit until he finds antiseptic and cotton balls. He douses the cotton and holds it up, pausing when the angel flinches. “This might sting a little. Okay?”

After no resistance, Lloyd dabs at the points on his forehead. The angel jumps back with a hiss, and Lloyd pauses again, frowning.  _ Is this what it’s like for Raine to take care of my wounds?! _

“Can you hold still for, like, two seconds?!”

He laughs hysterically, crazed. “No! No I can’t! I have had a long-ass day today and I think I can do whatever I want!” Tears rapidly build in the corners of his eyes. He curses again as he scrubs at his face with the heels of his blackened hands. “I’m wet, I’m cold, I’m in pain, and now I have fucking horns! Of course! Because the tail wasn’t enough, was it, Martel?!” He smacks his face several times.

“Don’t hit yourself!” Lloyd retrieves tissues from the first aid kit and comes forward again, careful not to grab him. He’s never seen anyone act like this before. Even Colette, who had been through horrible things herself, handles everything with a kind of grace that leaves him envious. 

This man leaves him uneasy. He doesn’t feel sympathy for him, so much as a weird, hollow sense of pity. The angel continues to smack himself until Lloyd lays his hands on his shoulders. He snarls, and Lloyd cringes, but he doesn’t lash out, and he eventually stills.

Lloyd continues to try and soothe him. “Stop, please. Hey hey hey, don’t rub, you’ll get ash in your eyes. Hey… it’ll be okay, all right?”

The angel scoffs again, his hands still covering his face. Lloyd gently takes one wrist, tugging until he yields. His eyes are bloodshot and tears stream freely down his cheeks, including from the big eye on his forehead. Lloyd wipes away his tears.

“It’ll be okay.” He dries off the angel’s jaw, the soft dips of his nose, the angle of his cheekbones. “Things are tough now, but you’ll make it through, stronger than you were before. You have an amazing fate in store for you. I just know it.”

“Don’t tell me. You’re all about that “love thy fate” shit, aren’t you?” The angel huffs a derisive laugh. His tears stop flowing, and he closes his eyes. Docile now, he lets Lloyd tape twin gauze patches onto his forehead.

“Yeah, actually. The Goddess Martel has a fate in mind for everyone, and we all play a part in each other’s stories. Colette-- ah, the Daughter of Luna always says that it’s like a big blanket She’s putting together, and everyone is one of the little threads that make it up.” Lloyd brushes ash off of the angel’s face, but he pulls his face away with an indignant glare. Lloyd glares back.

“Well, the Son of Efreet says that’s a load of bullshit.” He grumbles, flaring his wings and flapping them a few times. Lloyd holds up an arm to cover his face as water sprays everywhere. The angel doesn’t stop flapping, actually pushing Lloyd backwards a little, until the space immediately around him is considerably dryer. He pants heavily as he tucks his wings back into place, shaking again. “Fucking  _ water _ .” Lloyd notes his slumped shoulders and the hint of relief in his voice.

“Careful,” Lloyd says softly. He remembers the apple he has tucked away, and he produces it. “You should eat something.”

Before he finishes speaking, the angel snatches the apple from his hand and takes a gigantic bite past the core, exposing the massive pointed teeth that line his mouth. He finishes the fruit in a second bite, stem and all. The angel stares him down as he laps up the droplets of juice that remain on his fingers. Lloyd swallows hard.

He remembers that he’s only human. And he’s alone, and only one other person knows he’s here. His dagger feels heavy against his thigh.

 

“So. Now that you’ve helped me, what do you want out of me?”

“Excuse me?”

The angel falls onto all fours, edging into Lloyd’s space. The towels fall away, leaving him completely exposed again. Lloyd gasps and falls again as he tries to scoot backwards, away from his hungry prowl. Lloyd’s eyes cross as they come nose-to-nose. The angel sighs, his voice a sultry baritone, warm on Lloyd’s lips. All he can smell is sweet apple on bitter breath.

“What--” the angel murmurs as he approaches, punctuating each phrase with a breath, “--do you want,” he edges even closer, backing Lloyd against the wall, and Lloyd can hear his smile spreading over his long fangs, “out of li’l ol’ me?” 

His elbows plant on either side of his head, and Lloyd is trapped behind a curtain of brilliant gold and red. His jaw slacks as he tries to think of a way out of this situation, tries to think of an answer. Why  _ is _ he here? What did he come here for, really? That strong urge to help despite the danger, to reach out and learn more about this strange angel, to do the right thing despite directly disobeying Mithos, all of that brought him here in the first place.

But most of all, he admits to himself, he doesn’t want anyone to ever suffer alone. No matter who they are. He forces himself to lock gazes with the angel, a steady glare versus a predator’s leer. He ignores his urge to flee, the way his knees shake, the sickening churn in his empty stomach, as he works up his voice to speak.

“A-a friend.” Lloyd says. Sweat trickles down his chin.

The angel’s expression flatlines. “A friend?”

Lloyd slides his back flush against the wall. He takes a deep breath, trying to soothe his hammering heart. He’s uncomfortably damp. “I came here to help a future friend.”

 

An extended silence falls between the two. The angel stares, incredulous. Lloyd tries a sheepish smile, shrugging a shoulder. The ceiling  _ drip, drip, drips. _

Something bubbles in the angel’s throat, screwing up his lips. 

He chuckles. 

And then he laughs. 

And then he  _ loses it. _

He laughs so loudly that it echoes throughout the chamber, so harshly that Lloyd is afraid he might choke. He falls forward into Lloyd’s lap, much to his shock, laughing so hard that his body tremors and he gulps for air.

“Friends?! Nobody sent-- haha, nobody  _ sent _ you, you-- you aren’t a scientist or a soldier but you  _ traipse _ into the cave of a monster demonspawn from fucking Hell because-- ha ha ha! Because you wanna be  _ friends?! _ ” He howls, slamming his fist into the floor. It cracks from the force. “The power of  _ fucking FRIENDSHIP! _ ”

Lloyd is frozen into place. He doesn’t know exactly when the angel’s laughter dies into quiet sobs, but he lets him cling to his waist as he cries into his lap, and he watches his wings shudder. Slowly, he threads his hand into his hair and strokes, rubbing along the junction where his wings extend from just above the nape of his neck.

In his lap like this, the angel seems so small. So human, vulnerable and soft. He curls as close as he can to Lloyd and leans into his touch. Lloyd’s face softens. His heartbeat settles. He finds strength in his voice once again.

“Hey... You’re not alone,” Lloyd says. “I’m here.”

The angel doesn’t answer, but a shiver runs down his spine.

“Can I ask you a question?”

The angel inclines his head.

“What’s your favorite smell?”

He scoffs, shifting in his lap and sniffling. It takes him another long moment before he finally says, “Coffee. Hot coffee, in the morning. Just the smell alone would wake me up.”

“Coffee is good.” 

Lloyd stares into middle distance. The angel is heavy and warm. He squeezes around his torso in a way that makes Lloyd wonder if he’d even let him go if he asked. He’s not sure he wants to ask. It seems cruel to leave on a note like this. 

But if he stays any longer, things could get dicey. Lloyd pulls his hand away from his hair with some hesitation. He clears his throat and his brow furrows. 

“I… should probably get going, before someone catches me in here.”

The angel makes a sound and peers up at him, his nose pressed against his belly. He looks disappointed for a moment, but his face changes smoothly as he slides off Lloyd’s lap with the same lazy smile he met him with. His eyes still glisten. “Aw, too bad. Gotta run off before you get grounded, bud?”

_ Bud? _

“Heh, I’m already constantly grounded. No wings.” Lloyd chuckles, getting to his feet. “Keep your chin up. Things won’t be this bad forever. You’ve got a warm, dry bed and a nice meal to look forward to. I’ll see you around.”

He feels the angel’s eyes on his back as he goes. An uncomfortable heat of a stare, one that causes more sweat to bead on his neck. Leaving the humid chamber into a cooler space sounds more and more appealing as he goes, despite the guilt that clenches in his throat. He enters Raine’s password into the panel, his fingers shaking with every press.

_ Do-do-do. _

“Having some trouble there?”

“Just a mistype.” Lloyd chews on his lip. His second attempt is successful, and the doors swish open to his relief. Before he can leave, the angel makes a sound, and Lloyd glances back to him.

He winks and gives a two-fingered salute, popping off his forehead. “Thanks for the patch-up and the apple. It’s Zelos, by the way.”

Lloyd blinks and stammers a second, his brain taking a moment to catch up. “Uh, Lloyd.”

Zelos chuckles and flips his hair. “Don’t be a stranger, Lloyd.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POST-READ:
> 
> there he is! there's my man! there's the boy! he's sad, he's mad, and he's down to fuck!
> 
> also we got genis, my favorite kid, bless him. bless
> 
> PRE-READ SPOILER WARNINGS:  
> self harm: Zelos hits himself in the face a few times until Lloyd stops him.  
> injury: Zelos is bleeding from his forehead, and is also covered in purple-ish scars.


End file.
